


Night Clubs and Neon Lights

by cyriathestrange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyriathestrange/pseuds/cyriathestrange
Summary: Disaster attracts disaster. Both notorious flirts and school letharios, Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon have always steered clear of each other... because of subconscious warning bells that become all too clear when magnetism strikes -- the summer before their Seventh Year.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

1.

It was the owl from his mum that did it, Sirius would decide in hindsight.

He'd been lounging on the freshly cut grass with James, taking a break from trimming the hedges while Mrs. Potter wasn't watching. James had been telling him, for the hundredth time that summer, how he actually didn't feel bothered about Lily Evans anymore. Like, _at all_.

"Yeah. Prongs, I feel like if you _really_ meant that, you'd shut up about it—"

"I am. I have. I really don't have anything at all to say about it," James shrugged. Sirius snorted. "Except to say that I can't be bothered anymore. There's nothing so great about her anyways. I think I've just come to my senses. Matured."

Sirius snorted again, and was about to point out that talking _incessantly_ about how much you _don't_ care about something, is really only another form of caring about that thing— when he saw it.

The clouds had been plump with the threat of rain against a cadet blue sky. And that _fucking_ owl had swooped into view. It had obliterated the sun, and Sirius knew before it landed, who it was from.

_You despicable little kreaton,_

_If you think you are going to lay hands on your Uncle's inheritance, you are even more of a delusional little narcissist than we all suspected._

_If I so much as hear you are in contact with Alphred I will seriously consider having you killed. I should have drowned you when you were born._

_Our family tree has never looked better with your stain absolved from it. At least Regulus can carry on the Black family name like a proper son._

These highlights floated back to Sirius as he walked with his hands in his pockets, through the streets of muggle London. Night was falling. The signs outside the muggle pubs and restaurants glowed colorfully against the dark sky. He had always liked that about muggle towns. Their glowing signs in bright shades and cursive lettering. He smiled as a group of friends around his age burst from a pub called 'The Blackfriar', chanting a football song.

He tried not to think of Mrs. Potter's disappointed face when he had excused himself from the house an hour earlier.

He hated, _hated_ , that his mother could still have an effect on him. He'd forced himself to laugh out loud, feeling something in his chest close against the threat of feeling. He'd shown James the letter, hoping his best friend would laugh to and confirm the hilarity, the powerlessness of his mother's words.

James had smiled, unsure.

There had definitely been concern in his eyes.

Something about this confirmation of mistreatment had caused a chill to settle into Sirius' stomach. He'd set the letter on fire with his wand and they'd gone inside. But a growing feeling of unworthiness had plagued Sirius as they'd helped the Potters with their preparations.

There was _so_ _much love_ inside the Potter's house. It had been extended to him. Often he found this fact physically painful. He felt extremely sensitive to the possibility of their home potentially being darkened by his presence.

Tonight he had committed to attending Mrs. Potter's dinner party. But after receiving his mother's letter, he could feel something toxic brewing in him that had made him make up an excuse to bolt for the night.

She had been disappointed, and disappointing her made his palms sweaty and his throat tight. But this was the lesser of two evils. They wouldn't want a Black, a real Black, at their dinner table. That is what he'd felt coming tonight.

There was a merriment in the streets of London that made Sirius wonder if it were a holiday. People flowed from restaurant to bar— down the streets, in black boots, lovely dresses. Jeans and t-shirts with musical groups depicted. His own clothes were noticeably more formal, as his muggle collection was still the one he'd had from when he lived at his parent's house. Mrs. Potter was always offering to buy him more, but he could not take their money on top of everything else.

Feeling overwhelmed by the increasing intensity of crowds in the streets, Sirius decided apparate to a quieter location. He ducked into a deserted alleyway and wove behind a dumpster, his hand on his wand in his pocket, spinning in the way that was already second nature; though he'd only _technically_ had his license for two months.

He was squeezed, wrung out, and released.

He let out a slow breath, feeling peace settle around him. Finally.

He was in the village of Falmouth, in Cornwall. The smell of the sea caressed his nose. A cool breeze turned in his hair. It was quiet here. A few people were out, but the streets were smaller. The houses were bright, weathered by sun and salt. Flowers poured over pots and out of yards, lush in the coastal climate.

He started walking down a cobbled path, towards a set of pubs overlooking the ocean. The Wizarding province was near, but Sirius often liked the simplicity of the muggle parts of town. The stars were beginning to come out and the breeze was picking up. He had a sudden urge to transform into Padfoot and run for a while.

Maybe on the beach.

He looked around to see if anyone was near. They weren't.

Or so he thought. On the porch of a blue house to his left, the silhouette of a woman was illuminated by candlelight. Sirius slowed down, instinctively, appreciating the poetry of the image.

She was small and willowy, with a thick mess of curls. Her body was covered by a loose white dress. Her head was resting on her arms, which were on her knees. Her ankles and feet were delicate. Tanned. Sand-chipped polish adorned her toes.

She looked up, as if sensing him. Sirius' stomach flipped.

"Oh," he heard himself say, in surprise. "It's you."

She looked surprised too. Then she frowned.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here, Black?"

He re-grouped quickly.

"Well, darling," he said, switching his tone to that of the film actors they'd seen in Muggle Studies, "I've come for you."

They liked to flirt. It was notoriously their rapport.

She snorted.

" _Great balls of fire_ ," she drawled breathily. Then she rolled her eyes at him.

He smiled, because she was actually in his Muggle Studies class, and this was a film quote they had laughed at together, quite a lot.

They looked at each other. Sirius genuinely liked her; respected her. They way she met his eyes, like the way she was doing now, boldly, put him at ease. She was little, but there was a strength in her that made him feel that he could be himself. Other females had to be tip-toed around. Or perhaps he was just too vulgar for the majority. She was never afraid to shut him down, quite ferociously.

She was frowning again.

"Really though, what are you doing here?"

Sirius hesitated. He took a tentative step up the slightly dilapidated stairs.

"Well..." he said at length, "I finally cracked that tracking charm, see? So I've been following your every movement... until you landed in a place where I knew we could be alone."

He winked, roguishly. She rolled her eyes again and sat back, her palms flat on the deck behind her. The paint was faded. He sat down beside her.

" _Sirius_."

" _Marlene_."

"You know I actually have had a stalker before, so that's not really funny. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, shit," he grinned and masked this by rubbing his jaw, "I forgot about that. Sorry."

She looked tan, he could tell even by the light of the torches above them. He wondered how long she had been here; as far as he knew she lived in Oxford. She was raising her eyebrows at him. He chuckled, feeling suddenly uncertain and rubbed his eyes.

"No. I'm honestly... just walking. I like to apparate to different provinces sometimes. Clear my head."

He looked at her again. If he wasn't much mistaken, the way she was nodding seemed to imply that she could sense some of the things he'd left out. The reasons _why_ he was clearing his head. It was no secret at school that he'd run away. That he and his family were on warring terms.

"You're... walking around a muggle beach town?"

Her voice was dubious.

"Yeah- what are _you_ doing here? Sitting on a _porch_ in a muggle beach town?"

She laughed a little.

"It's my family's summer home."

"Why's it in the muggle province?"

She shrugged.

"It was cheaper, I think. I don't know. It was my grandmothers, maybe the borders were different then."

Sirius looked up at the house. The windows were mostly dark. A box of white flowers sat outside the window above them.

"So... you guys are on vacation?"

Marlene shrugged again.

"No, just me."

Sirius could sense a similar steeliness in her that he had felt all evening.

"You're just... having a little getaway then?"

He had sounded like he cared, a little too much. He cleared his throat. She looked up at him for a moment, then back across the street. She shrugged as if to say, _haven't thought about it._ But it was forced. _He_ could tell.

"Mmmhmm. Just needed to get away from it all. My mom's been away for a few weeks, so I just figured why not. I figured out a self-watering spell for her plants at home... so."

He grunted, feeling strangely curious about the details of Marlene's life. Then he remembered something.

"Oh," he said, before thinking, "right. I heard about Davies. Sorry about that."

She laughed, a little bitterly.

" _Right_ ," she grumbled, picking at a thread at the hem of her dress. The fabric was very thin. "I forgot everyone seems to have known about that. Except for me."

Sirius furrowed his brow.

"He's a git. You were way too good for him, to be honest. People talked about that all the time."

Her shoulders jumped as she gave a quick, soundless laugh.

"Thanks," she said. Then she drew herself up, shaking her head. The impervious sort of strength that he always admired in her seemed to resurface. "He is a git. It doesn't matter. I just wanted to be alone, get some sun, visit the shops-"

"- pick up a muggle lover for the summer?"

She snorted. Shrugged again.

"Yeah, maybe. I'm open."

Sirius laughed quietly. He particularly liked Marlene because she was safe to flirt with. She was just as big of a flirt as he was; and with that came the unspoken code of understanding, that none of it would be taken seriously.

The ocean breeze was lifting. A smell of pasta and fried fish was warm upon it. Sirius perked up. He was hungry for the first time since he'd received the letter.

"Where's that smell coming from?" he asked, turning to peer down the lane towards the brightly lit establishments near the shore.

"Le Donne's probably," Marlene said, her voice almost a monotone. She picked at the polish on her toe.

Sirius nudged her gently with his elbow. She withdrew her arm as if he'd hurt her, looking reproachful. He gave her an exasperated look.

"I barely touched you. Wanna go?"

She rubbed her arm with delicate fingers, still looking reproachful and quite grumpy. She was surveying the trees across the street again. Something about all of this made a smile tug at Sirius' lips.

"No," she said, and her voice sounded a little feeble. It held complaint. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately."

He frowned, watching the fingers on her arm— an arm that was quite skinny. More-so than it had been at the end of last term. His frown increased. Marlene was not one to wallow, or so he had thought. He got to his feet.

"All the more reason to eat," he said loudly, offering his arm and fixing her with a stern look.

She flicked her eyes up at him witheringly. Grimaced.

"I don't like fish."

Sirius sighed.

"Well we'll find something else. Come _on._ Mar _lene_! — This is a _first_ , we have bumped into each other outside of school, we've never seen each other outside of school— we can keep each other company, we can sulk mutually— whatever. Just come with me."

A begrudging smile pulled at her mouth. She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.

"I am literally in a nightgown."

"Well change. Or don't— I honestly couldn't tell, it's pretty sexy, actually, it could pass as a dress— come on Marlene, lets be wild."

He looked determinedly at her. She had almost laughed when he'd called her nightdress 'sexy'.

"Look," he said, changing his tone so that it was crisp and highborn, "I don't think you understand. You have an opportunity right now, Marlene, to go on a date with Sirius Black. And I don't know where you've been the last six years- but that's a seriously sought after commodity around the halls of Hogwarts, so get up, and-"

She burst out laughing. He grinned.

"Merlin. You guys are unbe _lievably_ full of yourselves. I used to think Potter couldn't be topped, but you've surpassed him in the last couple of years, you know."

"What can I say, Evans has spurned him into submission. Mar _lene_."

"Sirius."

"Do you, or _do you not_ , want to see what your female classmates have been raving about since we were naught but eleven."

She laughed again.

"Right. That's actually kind of a gross exaggeration, Black, no one was _raving about your prowess_ when we were _children_. And I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but it isn't your dates that the girls rave about- it's what happens after."

He grinned, feeling his pride swell. His chest actually puffed into better posture.

"I am aware of that, actually."

"Jesus, I actually did not mean that as a complement. It came out wrong."

"No, I think it came out pretty accurately-"

"What I _meant_ ," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. Sirius suppressed a smile, knowing she was close to defeat. "Merlin- you're incorrigible- is that what the girls _rave about_ is _not_ something you and I — are going to partake in. They honestly say that dates with you are a little stressful. _Rushed_ , as if you're just wanting to speed through to the-"

Sirius held up a hand, looking away and biting his lip on a grin, because, fuck, she was impossible, and he wasn't used to being _defeated_ in a sparring match, and he found that he didn't _want_ her to see how much it made him _fucking giddy_ like a second year— 

"That's why this is perfect, Marlene," he said, "because we are friends, and the after stuff is _off_ the table, so dinner with me will actually be great. You will get the full gift of my conversational prowess, my intellect, my-"

She cut him off with another laugh mixed with a noise of exasperation. Probably because he had been counting on his fingers, with focus, intent on making a full list of his attributes.

She was standing. Sirius fell silent at once, grinning in triumph. He offered his arm again obediently.

"I must admit, I rather feel that I have received enough of the gift of your conversational prowess," she said offhandedly, brushing off the seat of her dress, "but fine, Black, you have worn me down. Let's eat some bloody fish and chips."

She took his arm. A strange, heated feeling rippled through his abdomen. He chalked it up to victory. And company. Someone besides his own mind and his mother's words to occupy him this evening.

"I thought you didn't like fish," he noted.

"I don't, but I'm eating all your chips," she sniffed.

He chuckled and pulled her down the creaking stairs, down the cobbled path. He had to resist the urge to transform into Padfoot just to shock, impress, thrill her. He had to remind himself, quite severely, that being an animagus was highly illegal, in order to restrain.

The breeze ushered them into town, with an air of renewal; fresh beginnings.


	2. Chapter 2

Sirius looked like a Labrador when he ate.

Marlene watched him from across the table, brows pinched as he slurped down the plate of spaghetti he had ordered in addition to his fish and chips, Guinness, and prawns martini.

"I have a question," she stated, after thirty seconds of this, in which the ceiling fan above them spun weakly, and the dusty, drip-marked candles in the center of the checkered cloth between them flickered in the draft. He made a noise that was something like an 'mmm?' so she continued.

"I'm just trying to get a picture of your overall... charm," she narrowed her eyes, trying to deduce how it was that he managed to still be somewhat attractive, even as he noshed like a feral animal. He laughed and raised his eyes to meet hers, holding up one hand in a _give me a moment_ gesture and lifting his Guinness with the other. He took a drink to clear his mouth and set the glass down, holding her eyes defiantly.

"Picture away."

He leaned back in his chair and continued to look her in the eyes as he cleaned his hands on one of the red cloth napkins that had once been folded into a swan shape atop his empty plate. A knowing smile played at the corner of his lips. A dark section of hair had fallen into his eyes. He shook it away.

Marlene snorted.

"Right. You're ridiculous. But," she cocked her head, taking him in. A light had taken up residence in his eyes when she'd said this. The smile had increased. She turned the same chip she'd been holding for the past five minutes over in her fingers. "I'm trying to understand. Is _this_ ," she gestured to him, the three plates of food, the now-stained napkin and discarded prawn-shells, "part of your infamy? I'm just trying to understand how you actually manage to get into the girls dorms _so_ often, Black."

Sirius shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulling into an aggrieved expression.

"I've actually never been into the girl's dorms. Call it one of the few pieces of Hogwarts magic I haven't been able to crack," he grinned, " _yet_."

"I was speaking figuratively."

"I know."

He stretched, seemingly signaling the end of the athletic feat that had been his ingestion. He was wearing a white button-up shirt. He'd undone three of these buttons during the course of their, well _his_ , meal, cursing the muggy heat, then the poor ventilation, then the spiciness of the prawns. His chest was unexpectedly freckled. "No, like I said, we're just spending a _rare_ encounter out as friends. Sulking mutually, weren't we? I'm not trying to impress you."

Marlene laughed. "That much is _very_ clear. So just out of curiosity, how much food do you order when you're on an actual _date_? Surely there is more restraint involved."

"Yes of course there is," he was unbuttoning the buttons on his sleeves so he could roll them up. "Restraint is the name of the game," he hummed. Then his eyes turned chiding, "— you know I _thought_ I was ordering for two here," he fixed her with a look of stern, mother-hen reproach.

"Well I told you I was going to have some chips."

"Well are you going to actually _eat that_? Or just play with it for half an hour," he widened his eyes at the chip in her hands. It had gone quite soggy. She tossed it at him. He bit his lip on a laugh, and popped it into his mouth. Then he held up a strand of spaghetti like a slingshot, pretending to take aim.

" _Sirius_ ," Marlene hissed, holding up her hands. She lifted the fabric of her dress to remind him that she was _wearing white_ , suggesting strongly with her expression that if marinara sauce stained it, she would emphatically kill him. He laughed, a real, throaty laugh, and put the spaghetti sling down, his eyes on the older waitress across the room. He was wearing an expression Marlene recognized of trying to avoid being caught mid-mischief by Professor McGonagall. She smiled.

The last patrons of the evening were beginning to leave the restaurant. The barkeep was cleaning glasses with a white cloth, nodding his head in time to a song from _Grease_. A bell on the front door tinkled as a couple left, hand in hand, in near-matching high-waist shorts and polo shirts.

Marlene turned back to Sirius, feeling a little impatient. His eyes were still on the waitress, who was heading over to check on them.

Sirius had been playing his own little game for the past forty minutes, which consisted of pretending to be in the middle of the most shocking conversations he could possibly imagine, whenever this poor woman approached their table. So far, both Marlene and the waitress had been treated to lines from this one-man show such as,

" _I can't believe what you did with those fire-dancers last night, Marlene, I really can't. I mean, I_ really _can't believe how many you took to your_ room _. And the smoke that came from beneath the door until all hours, I really just_ — _Oh! Hi, well, and you? A Guinness please. Thank you."_

And,

_"I told him, I said, mate, I understand that you want to spend the night with me, but I'm underage, there's really nothing I can do. But then he upped his offer to two thousand pounds, and... oh! Hello again. Yes! Tell me about the prawns martini..."_

Marlene could feel Sirius practically begin to vibrate with excitement as she approached again. He opened his mouth to begin speaking, with a wicked look in his eye, but Marlene kicked him under the table, cutting him off.

"I mean, the real question is," she said loudly, staring him down, "if you're going to collect women's underthings, fine, I don't judge you for that. But I really don't see your obsession with wanting to _match—_ like does it really matter if we're _both_ wearing pink thongs? Variety is the spice of life, you know. — Oh, yes thank you, I'm all done."

He looked at her, then at his plate, and up at her again in a way that was, she hated to admit, truly endearing.

If Sirius was infamous for anything, it was that he was a strange and unpredictable enigma. Everyone knew his past and his family. Most people were afraid of the Blacks, and rumors of some of their family traditions had been told in the girls dorms in her first couple of years at Hogwarts like genuine camp-fire horror stories. Wand-light under the face and all.

He had a duality in his spirit that held the kind of fascination for girls their age that was akin to a love-potion. There was a lightness in him that at once transcended what he had come from, and made him a genuine pleasure to be around. Classes with James and Sirius, though annoying at times, were also known to be highly entertaining, and very fun. But there was also a brooding tone to his nature that came out often enough to make him a genuinely magnetic and interesting person. He gave off a sense of having seen some real shit. Marlene, having seen more than most should too, could recognize this in him.

At the moment, he was alight with a boyish glee that was practically adorable. She really hated to say it.

After they left, Sirius insisted they go for a walk along the shore. There was a brief scuffle, in which Marlene attempted to point out that it was _dark_ and might not be _safe_ , and he said, _Marlene you are literally a witch, you can fend off any muggle, are you seriously telling me you are afraid of the dark?_

To which Marlene pointed out that she still technically wasn't allowed to _use_ magic, as her seventeenth birthday was in October, and Sirius gave her a look of dual exasperation and pity, unsheathing his own wand from his pocket like he thought he was a knight or a _mobster_ from the films in Muggle Studies, and it all annoyed her so much that she ended up turning on her heel and charging down to the shore ahead of him. Which had then turned into a race down the rocky and crumbling stairs, with only the moon to guide their way... which was perhaps the most unsafe aspect after all.

They reached the beach, out of breath and laughing. Marlene had won. She turned to gloat over her shoulder and he'd laughed and thrown his light jacket over her head, wrapping her for a moment as though she were a mummy. Cursing in a very muffled way into the material, she pried it off her face accused him of being a poor sport. She'd tried to toss it back to him.

"Keep it, it's colder down here," he said over his shoulder, sliding his hands into his pockets.

This was true, so she accepted it. It was very nice, made of a thin, black suede and embossed with ivory buttons. She frowned at the intricately carved cufflinks which adorned the sleeves that drooped past her fingertips. She shook them back, freeing her hands.

"Why do you wear muggle clothes like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like nice clothes — clothes that are this _nice_ — like you know you're not attending a gala, right?"

He snorted, looking back at her again. His lashes curled an impressive silhouette in the moonlight, and his hair shone silver in patches.

" _Yes_ , I know I'm not attending a _gala_ — they're all I have right now," he shrugged again, "I don't know. My family's bloodline is ' _pure'_ , and whatever _they_ think that means, what it _really means_ is that they're grievously out of touch with the modern muggle fashion world. Unfortunately."

Marlene grinned down at the cufflinks again.

"I see, so when you're in the muggle world, you're perpetually trapped in a turn of the century wedding?"

Sirius laughed, turning around to look at her as he walked. His feet made backwards prints in the sand. She watched her own feet, walking to meet them.

"Marlene, you are literally in a _white_ dress that looks like it could have been worn in the prairies of Austria at any number of weddings."

She laughed too. It sounded nice against the washing of the sea, like birdsong over rain. The moon was behind Sirius, fat and luminous above his left shoulder. The sand was wet and cool under her bare feet. She felt relieved. Happy and free— overall very glad that she had agreed to leave her sulking post on the porch.

"Okay, right. Fine. You have a point there."

He turned back around, smiling. With his back to her she felt that she could see his mood through his posture. His head bounced and his body moved in one smooth motion as he turned to look at an oncoming wave, as though his shoulders were on an axis of a solar system model.

"I mean, it does beg the question," he said after a few moments. He was looking back at her out of the corner of his eye. He looked predisposed to be very pleased with himself.

"What?" she asked, warily, sensing a set-up.

"Should we get married?"

Her heart flipped a little, unexpectedly. _Merlin_ , he really was unstoppable. She rolled her eyes and fixed him with a slow-blooming look of austerity. He let out a quiet bark of laughter, and turned back around, grinning, tilting his head to look at the moon.

The spray of the sea misted Marlene's face and bare legs, lifted by a gust of wind rolling off the churning water. She sighed silently. It felt good to be out of the house. Her days this week had been filled with a glum routine of existing on cola and apples, forcing herself to do laundry, and sitting, mostly, on the porch, in the dark of the living room, or on a rock by the beach that she liked.

Sirius had turned to face her again. His posture had shifted, had become more grounded.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, after a moment. Sea foam spread over the ground by their feet. Marlene leapt away from the chilly water. He smiled and kicked a splash towards her. It dripped down her legs.

" _OY!"_ She shook the hem of her dress and fixed her eyes upon him. Then said, "yes. If you must."

"D'you ever feel..." his eyebrows knit together, dark black arches that pulled down expressively. He glanced out towards the ocean. "I don't know. Different... from the people around you?"

He bit his lip after he spoke, as though regretting having said it. He winced comically as he looked back at her.

Marlene couldn't help but smile. The breeze lifted the hair at the back of her neck. Sirius had seemed preoccupied in some tiny part all evening. Though Sirius generally _always_ seemed preoccupied in some tiny part. She suspected that feeling ostracized was part of his natural state... given everything.

"I..." Marlene found herself looking out at the ocean as well. She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling suddenly torn. She felt that she wanted to offer him honesty, because it felt like it was rare for him to voice such a thing at all. But she generally did not like to admit to having insecurities. _You're too proud_ , Davies had told her during arguments, often.

"Yes. Of course I do," she sighed, returning her eyes to Sirius'. "I think everyone does. Even if they don't look it."

Sirius shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, though this motion was limited because his hands were still embedded in his pockets.

"I genuinely don't think James does."

"Well, I think we can put Potter _firmly_ in the freak category — for a wide variety of reasons."

Sirius laughed, though not cruelly. In fact, his eyes took on a particular crinkle that strongly suggested fondness, which she had seen on his face when he looked at James before.

" _True_ — one of his many charms. But. I don't know. It's silly to compare. It doesn't matter."

He had shrugged again, and was smiling at Marlene in a way that looked the smallest bit forced. She found herself offering him a kind smile in return. Bloody hell, the boy was endearing — maybe here at last was the charm.

"Well, it's just that you and James have had very different lives, so that might be the _one_ area in which you are not complete and total soulmates."

Sirius smiled again, but humorously this time. He looked grateful. His white shirt glowed in the moonlight, illuminated against the cliffs and cobalt sky behind him.

"Are you alright?" He said after a few moments of silence in which he looked at her, turned forwards, and then back to her again. He didn't sound concerned, exactly, more matter of fact, although his voice had been unusually kind.

Marlene felt her cheeks flush, but knew the night would hide this betrayal of her face. She stepped on something hard, that must have been a shell, because it crunched. She looked down and checked her bottom of her foot, feeling defensive heat building in her chest.

" _Yes_ , Black, _I'm alright_. You know, despite what people may think, my world doesn't come crumbling down just because a relationship ends."

He watched her mildly. He pressed his mouth together and his jaw out thoughtfully.

"I don't think you're like that. I wasn't even talking about Davies — you're better off without being tied to him — he's a total git — no, just... I mean, you're just out here alone, I'm just making sure you're... alright."

Marlene looked at him from the tops of her eyes, hoping she looked stern and indifferent.

"Thanks Black. But I am. Like I said, I just wanted some space from everyone I knew."

She didn't mention the rest of it. That because she'd jumped into a relationship with Davies directly after her father had died, he had become a sort of band-aid that had been ripped off so suddenly, that she'd spent the past two weeks in a well of grief that she _did not_ know what to do with. She kept having nightmares of her father's death and waking up in a panicked sweat.

But the actual event of her father's death had happened so long ago that she didn't know how to voice her feelings to anyone. She just wanted to be somewhere she could cry alone. She liked to imagine that the feelings would slowly drain from her body through tears until she felt normal again. They would dissipate into the ocean spray, secret whispers to be held forever by nature, instead of by her. The sea would listen. Understand.

Sirius cocked his head, a distinctly canine gesture that made Marlene feel further endeared to him, despite her most rational intentions at this point.

"Alright," he said, and she could sense that he could sense something of what she wasn't saying. Then he smiled. "Where do I fall into the 'everyone you knew' part."

Marlene laughed, clutching his jacket around her more tightly as a strong gust of wind caused it to flap. Her dress rose up dangerously, and she bunched the fabric together near her thighs.

"You know, I am actually very glad for _your_ company, so thank you for dragging me out. "

He made a soft 'mmhmm' sound that was almost lost in the wind.

"Why are you out _walking_ this evening?" she asked, as though it were a casual question. He looked over his shoulder at her. His eyes clearly said 'I know what you're up to.'

"Oh, I dunno," he said, his voice extremely casual, "just needed some time to myself as well I suppose — or, rather, time away from everyone _I_ know."

He smirked at her. Marlene made a thoughtful noise, studying the side of his face.

"You live with the Potters, don't you?" she asked. She knew this already, of course. Everyone knew this. But she felt that if she feigned ignorance he may let her in on secrets around the mysterious subject. It was a topic of great speculation among most of the students at Hogwarts. His family was very famous, and very scary. His escape from them, his sorting into Gryffindor, was already source material for the sort of student-mythology that followed James, Sirius, and Remus around.

"I do," his voice was easy.

"Oh," she said, as though this confirmation were revelatory, "how interesting. Is that like a Pure-Blood exchange program type of thing?"

Her tone had been light enough to pass the joke off as an innocent question. He snorted, and stopped walking for a moment so that she drew up next to him. She could tell by the look on his face that her pretenses of ignorance were not working.

"Exactly," he said, and his tone was still easy. For some reason this made her feel an odd mixture of wary and impressed. He seemed completely impossible to rattle. His hands were now in front of his body, illustrating his words, "I've spent the last year at the Potters, and then _this year_ , James will spend all holidays with _my family..._ where he'll learn about torture, cleaning prison cells, the fine art of misogyny, house elf-abuse—"

He counted on his fingers, as casually as if he were listing school subjects. Marlene had stopped walking and it took him a second to notice.

"Sorry," he offered a small apologetic smile. "Too dark?"

Marlene shook herself, closing her eyes for a moment, not knowing wether to laugh or pepper him with questions.

"I brought it upon myself, I suppose — is any of that _true_?"

She scrutinized his face. He looked back at her with his eyebrows raised, a little pitying. He rubbed the back of his neck and declined to speak.

"Jesus, well," Marlene felt anger at nothing in particular rise up her neck, "I won't pry any more but suffice to say — I'm glad you're with the Potters."

Sirius made a good-humored noise in his chest.

"Me too."

They continued to walk, their talk turning to lighter things. He expressed admiration for the Potters and for James. He seemed in awe of their moral characters. Marlene let him in on a piece of gossip she had heard, regarding a sighting of Professors McGonagal and Dumbledore at a party in Hogsmeade this summer. Sirius vented irritation around most of the things Peter Pettigrew did with his time, and they mused together on the subject of Lily and James.

"I think he's finally given up. Well. He _says_ he has anyways. I can't say firsthand that his actions support his statement," Sirius told her as they climbed the stairs back up into town. Most of the establishments had closed, leaving a dark, misty atmosphere in the abandoned streets.

"You know," Marlene said slowly, "I would be interested to see what would happen if he _did_ give up. Alice and I have long suspected that Lily is not indifferent to him, as such."

"Well clearly not, they fight _all the time_ — do you remember in fifth year when they made a table explode in the Gryffindor Common Room?"

Marlene chuckled at the memory. A stray cat yowled from an alleyway and Sirius jumped a little, honing in on the sound.

"I do. But that's not what I mean. I think she _could_ warm to him, I really do. He just hasn't given her an inch of space in six years to actually think about it clearly."

Sirius chuckled now, tearing his attention away from the cat. Marlene was reminded again, irresistibly, of a Labrador.

"Yeah. Patience is not generally his strong suit."

Marlene smiled. They had reached the park across from her house. The conversation lilted as they both realized they were at a crossroads.

"Want to... see the park?" Marlene heard herself say. "It has a lovely rose garden, and some muggle statues I think you might find very amusing."

Sirius appraised her face quickly. She could see him weighing something and wondered what it was.

"Sure," he said, after a few moments. His voice had dropped in volume in a way that made Marlene wonder if she had just made a stupid mistake. "Please tell me it's a Renaissance statue — I _love_ when the blokes are just sat reading a book romantically with their bollocks out."

"Oh, just you wait," said Marlene, pushing aside her strange doubt and leading him through the small iron-wrought gate and into the park.

They walked. They looked at the roses illuminated in the moonlight and sat on a bench in the mist, next to a merrily trickling fountain until the backs of Marlene's thighs went numb. When they both became conscious of the bell tower in the church nearby, ringing into the stillness of the night, Marlene counted three chimes.

"Three?" She said, startled, "it's three in the morning?"

"Yeah..." Sirius was looking at his watch. He didn't look back up at her, and instead fixed his eyes on the fountain. "That happened fast."

Marlene agreed and felt suddenly conscious of a nagging feeling that this held some significance. Somehow, talking with someone of the opposite sex until well-after midnight didn't seem so easily written away as an 'evening out with a friend'. Friendship seemed to call for a natural sense of curfew. She cleared her throat.

"Oh — sorry — do you want your jacket back? You're cold."

Sirius had shivered a little, flexing his hands as if they'd gone stiff. He looked at her.

"What? Oh. No. It's fine. You're barely clothed," he looked sideways at her and half-smiled when she flushed at this, "sorry, that's not what I meant. Here. C'mon, I'll walk you home."

He stood and offered her his arm again, just as he had at the start of the night. He seemed relaxed now though. Resigned.

Marlene stood and took it. She wanted to say something witty or cutting in order to diffuse the sudden seriousness that had settled between them, but her mind felt tired and drained of all its words.

"Thanks," she said.

They meandered through the rose garden and back out through the gate. A lone car drove by and they stood to wait for it, watching its headlights carve swatches of yellow into the fog, before crossing the street. Then they were in front of her steps.

"Well," she said, a little breathless, though they'd only walked a short distance. She shrugged off his coat and held it out to him. She realized she was resisting an urge to invite him inside for hot chocolate. Instead she said, "Thank you for the company, mate."

He grinned, biting his lip and looking at the pavement between them. When he looked back up at her his hair had fallen into his eyes, and they had a very _Sirius_ look in them, an electrically sweet kind of humor. Marlene's stomach contracted in a strange way and she felt the urge to push him or take a step back. She felt as though she had grievously miscalculated something about this evening.

"Thank _you_ , _chum_ ," he said. His voice was genuine. He bent his head and upper torso in a formal bow that was meant to be a joke, but which was executed so naturally, Marlene was both touched and reminded of his unique and very _high_ breeding. This made her feel a little insecure, so when he looked back up, she performed the most graceful curtsy she could — holding his eyes sardonically. He barked a laugh.

"Goodnight, Marlene McKinnon," he drawled, walking backwards, passing his jacket into his other hand and swinging it absently beside him. She forced herself to roll her eyes, feeling as though she were taking on a personal challenge in her own mind to _not_ be charmed by him again.

"Goodnight, Black," she said.


End file.
